House of Wolves
by xSlytherclaWx
Summary: He's done enough horrible things to have more than enough contrition for a lifetime. Still, perhaps he can make a difference, and ending it all doesn't sound too horrible, either. Regulus-centric.  this is a rewrite of my old fanfic Disenchanted
1. Chapter 1

**note:** Okay, this is essentially a rewrite of my old Regulus fanfiction, _Disenchanted_. I quite liked _Disenchanted_, only when I went back to read it a few months ago, I realised how horrible it is. Hopefully my writing has improved since I was fourteen. As for the title, I decided to stick with song titles from My Chemical Romance's _The Black Parade,_ as I still feel like that album can largely fit Regulus (or at least my interpretation of him). "House of Wolves" seemed to fit best (aside from "Disenchanted", but FF dot Net wouldn't dare let me name two stories with the same title). And so here we are: four years later with what is hopefully a much better version of the same story.

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><p><em><strong>House of Wolves.<strong>_

I remember the day that Sirius left for Hogwarts with almost alarming clarity. Mother and Father allowed me to go to King's Cross with them; at the time I thought that it was an act of kindness, but now I realise that the real reason was that they didn't trust me home alone with Kreacher. Either way, I was nothing short of miserable. Sirius had, for so long, been my only real friend (Kreacher didn't count, I reasoned, as he was more like a pet), and now... he was leaving. Not for good, certainly not. I knew that he'd be back for Christmas but still, the thought of three months apart from my brother, whom I adored, was more than I could bear.

I told him repeatedly that I'd miss him, to have him ruffle my hair and shoot me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, Reggie," he'd said. "I'll be back before you know it." Reggie. That had been his nickname for me – only Sirius had been allowed to address me by that name, and he used it often. That is, until...

No, I've got more to cover until I get to that.

I said my tearful goodbyes to Sirius and we promised to write each other at least once a week, and then... Mother, Father, and I left. Sirius boarded the train and it went off to Hogwarts, carrying my best friend with it.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I'd tried just about every trick, but it wasn't working. I missed my brother. I knew that Sirius, with his naturally charming personality, had probably already made new friends at Hogwarts. Miserable and lonely, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, to see if perhaps Kreacher could make me something to help me sleep.

Mother and Father were in the kitchen – strange, really, since Sirius and I were the only ones who really ever went down there. They were focused intently on a sheet of parchment, Mother visibly furious. I stayed in the shadows, afraid to move.

"Gryffindor," Father muttered.

"It's disgraceful," Mother growled. "How dare that boy..."

Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. I was shocked beyond belief; Sirius never struck me as a Gryffindor, and, what's more, he'd seemed rather pleased at the prospect of becoming a Slytherin. I wondered what could have happened to change his mind so entirely. Unless... perhaps his mind wasn't changed. Perhaps he really _was_ a Gryffindor. But... Gryffindors and Slytherins are rather alike, really, two sides of the same coin. Of course, I didn't realise that then. I was horrified that my big brother – someone whom I'd idolised – had disgraced the family so.

I quietly hurried back to my room and huddled under my blankets, unsure of whether to scream or cry.

Sirius came home for Christmas. He spent as much time with me as possible, which thrilled me at the time, but... in retrospect, I realised that he was primarily trying to avoid our parents. They wouldn't yell at him in front of me, he discovered, and so he spent all of his time with me. Pretty shrewd for a Gryffindor.

When it was my turn to go to Hogwarts, I was sorted into Slytherin. I was initially quite pleased; I had done well, I'd brought some pride back to my family, but... Sirius was disappointed in me. It wasn't like I could have helped it! I was ambitious, cunning, and resourceful. I was never _evil_ like his friends seemed to believe all Slytherins were. However, I could never quite convince Sirius of that fact.


	2. Chapter 2

The decision was simple. When the Dark Lord lost – and he _would_ lose – I would be sent to Azkaban, anyway. There was very little chance of me surviving very long after this war, as it was... I decided that I might as well help to end it (and, therefore, hopefully reduce the number of casualties). I had never had any real passion for the Dark Arts – I wasn't Bellatrix. I had had a passion for power and position – and a strong sense of pride.

_Pride cometh before the fall_ indeed.

Joining the Death Eaters seemed, at the time, a way to restore my family's pride. Sirius had very badly damaged our reputation, and that simply couldn't stand. If I joined the Death Eaters, my family would be absolved in the eyes of pureblood society. There was really no choice.

There _was_ a choice, though, after all. I could have become a "blood traitor" like my brother. However, somewhere along the way, I had become enchanted with this Dark Lord's ideas – we were, of course, superior to muggles, though I didn't quite think of them as swine. They were... something lesser than myself, really, and perhaps not _quite_ human in my naïve eyes, but... I didn't think that their mere existence necessitated their slaughter. We would rise and come out of hiding – we'd put the muggles in their own, separate areas of land – and we'd be glorious.

I wasn't the only one who agreed with Grindelwald. Muggles shouldn't necessarily be _killed_; just separated. (I later learnt that that was what that mad Hitler bloke had done, before slaughtering people just because they were different).

But the Dark Lord was overconfident. I wasn't a Slytherin for nothing; I pride myself on my shrewdness and cunning.

He let things slip – small things, things that most overlooked. I didn't. When I pieced it together, I could scarcely believe it; the Dark Lord was creating Horcruxes. Horcruxes were so Dark that even my family had little information on it. I nearly tore every bookshelf in our house apart.

They were so evil, in fact, that at first, I didn't believe him.

I decided to wait, to observe.

The war became worse and worse, and more and more were dying each day, from every side.

I worried that someone I cared for would be next. I worried that _I_ would be next. What would happen if I got killed in a duel before I had done anything about the Horcrux?

I became more and more certain that the Dark Lord had created a Horcrux – only one, I reasoned. There was no reason to make more than one. It was difficult and dangerous and I really didn't think that the Dark Lord would take the risk.

There was, of course, still the matter of the Horcrux itself. I had no idea where to begin; I wasn't even certain of its existence.

When the Dark Lord asked for an Elf, I didn't hesitate. I offered up Kreacher's service, making sure to tell my Elf to come back and tell me everything.

Kreacher did not disappoint me.

I had been right, after all. I knew the location of the Horcrux and, my mind made up, made preparations to destroy it. I would go to the cave myself, with Kreacher, and drink the poison and die in the cave. I would bid Kreacher to destroy the locket Horcrux. I would drown (hopefully; I feared the dead more than I feared Death, and Inferi were not very high on my list). The war would, hopefully, end. I might even become a hero. I didn't put any store in heroes; there was no point to look up to someone so absolutely. I had learnt that when I was eleven. I would be content just to die having done something good.

...And now here I am, before the basin, about to drink the hellish fluid. About to relieve my worst memories. About to almost die of thirst. About to drown. About to become nothing more than a memory. Unbidden, happier memories come to mind, mixing with the horrible ones that I know will resurface with this potion.

This is my penance. I'd sinned and now I am about to die for my crimes.

I take a deep breath before filling the goblet and lifting it to my lips.


End file.
